


nothing comes even close (to half of you)

by space (sunblue)



Category: GOT7
Genre: Childhood Friends, Fluff, High School AU, M/M, absolute sugar, idk what im doing, jackson cant stop meddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 21:03:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6769816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunblue/pseuds/space
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looks a little too handsome for a bratty teenager with temper issues and untucked shirts, but the curve of his lips and the sharp shadows on his face makes it a little hard for him to tear his eyes away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing comes even close (to half of you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [2tae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/2tae/gifts).



> unbeta'd
> 
> based off this prompt: imagine your otp has the same art class. the teacher gives them a fun assignment to create a snowflake using scissors and paper. while everyone is working their teacher constantly talks about how no two snowflakes are ever the same. however, when everyone is done your otp has managed to make the exact same snowflake.

To be fair, the argument that they were too mature to be subjected to a mandatory art therapy session is pretty much redundant because Jinyoung is eighty percent sure that only ten percent of the class was capable of handling scissors and glue without trying to drive it up someone's ass. 

Which is unfortunate for Jaebum because he was one of the minority and Jackson, who was of the majority, had spent the last ten minutes trying to discreetly glue pieces of papers to his shirt until he realised the kraft glue given to them was made for preschoolers and had the adhesive properties of spit.

Naturally, when their more volatile friend came to realise the weird sticky sensation on his back wasn't the humidity of the room and its sputtering central heating system, he whipped his eyes straight to Jackson and, long story short, both boys were separated at the end of each room. There's still patches of torn paper stuck on Jaebum's back and Jackson's still bouncing in his seat beside Jinyoung, adrenaline shaking his legs from when he’d sprinted up and down the corridors with a hazardous pair of scissors in his hands. 

Jinyoung had watched the whole scene unravel, deciding that maybe it would have been better if he hadn't turned a blind eye to Jackson. He was after all, also associated with the boy and if he was going to get flying colours on every subject he'd have to wrangle in his friend's exuberance. 

Still seething, Jaebum throws daggers from across the room at their blond friend before glancing then to Jinyoung, who shrugs his shoulders because hey, he didn't tell him to blow a fuse. He's not  _ that  _ against Jaebum getting angry. Of course he cares for his friend's emotional stability and rising blood pressure, but at the same time he looked pretty hot when pissed. 

It was something about the set of jaw, he thinks, the sudden spike in the air around him. He’s plenty intimidating, the kind of person you’d cross the street for at night but Jinyoung’s been stuck with him for way too long to even be remotely fazed. 

“Snowflakes are an artform of nature,” the teacher goes on, waving her hand in an avant-garde fashion through the air, “No two formations are ever exactly the same and each design remains completely unique to others.”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes. Here come the metaphors of how diverse everyone was and how special and whatever, whatever. To spare himself, he tunes out her wistful tone and picks up his circle and ruler, pencilling in whatever design his fingers blindly follow. 

“Jesus christ,” Jackson shifts next to him, tongue poking in concentration as he haphazardly tries to cut out his design with scissors, “Why are we even doing this? I feel like I’m back in preschool.” He leans over to peer down the table to glance at Mark, “Ugh, Mark hasn’t even started, what the hell I give up.”

He throws down his blunt scissors and crinkled paper, bits of white fluttering down onto his uniform like tragic arts-and-craft snow. 

“Maybe if you started drawing in a design first before beginning to cut straight away then you wouldn’t end up with a Kadinsky’s rendition of a snowflake.”

Looking down at Jinyoung’s neat lines, Jackson pinches his face and leans back over to look back at Mark who was dozing with his eyes open. 

“Hey, Mark. You gonna finish that? No? Thanks.” Jinyoung leans back against his chair as his friend stretches his whole body across the table to snatch the elder’s uncut design. He blinks a little, fazed by the sudden movement of light and shadow before stilling back into his temporary vegetative state.

“You’re no fun, Jinyoungie.” Jackson says, butchering Mark’s design into something alike to the excrement of a paper shredder, “You’re all precision and rulers and fancy pencils. You’ve got to channel your inner child. You know, the whole point of this exercise.”

“Does an inner child choose to glue pieces of paper to their fuse-box of a friend?” Jinyoung raises an eyebrow and glances up at Jaebum, who coincidentally meets his eyes halfway across the room with the same expression. They share a smile, and  _ yeah, you’re no better Im Jaebum for giving in to his provocations.  _

Jaebum shrugs across the room, thin lips pursed into a sheepish line.  _ Well, what would you have done if you have bits of paper stuck to your back? _

_ Not chase him around the room like toddlers?  _ He inclines his head down a little. Jaebum sniffs, defeated, and looks back down to his work. 

Jackson elbows him harshly in the ribs and Jinyoung cries out when he almost cuts his finger off. Jaebum snaps up, looking at them.

“What the hell, Jackson?” Jinyoung hisses, elbowing him back.

“You two were doing that  _ thing  _ again,” his friend whispers conspiratorially, leaning into his ear with his eyes blown into wide circles, “It’s so creepy.”

Irritated, Jinyoung shrugs him away, snipping at his paper with more force than necessary, “What thing?”

“That weird have-an-entire-conversation-with-your-eyes thing,” Jackson glances between him and Jaebum, flinching a little when he gets a glower from the latter, “It’s so spooky, like brain children or telepathic alien men. You two aren’t test tube babies, right?”

“This isn’t a sci-fi show, but I’ll leave your speculations with our parents, thanks.”

“Man, you two are so  _ weird _ .”

“Tell me that when you stop eating cheese at two in the morning and wearing personalised Wang-ified tracksuits.”

With the force of a gale, Jackson exhales like a disappointed parent and shakes his head. The next half hour becomes filled with Mark’s quiet snoring, the teacher’s ongoing rambling about snowflakes and how individual everyone was, with Jackson’s commentary and extremely creative sexual innuendoes that make Jinyoung’s ears burn a little. 

Two minutes into his obnoxiously loud friend calling him a cutie and pulling at his red ear with a traitorous Mark in the background laughing at him, the teacher begins to cough pointedly and he calms down, releasing his ear. Jinyoung scowls and rubs his sore skin. He sees Jaebum snickering at them and he has half a mind to flip him off. 

They hand in their work, over the half class’ artistic abilities shining in forms of torn and splintered paper, and most notoriously Mark’s second incomplete snowflake that’s really just a blank a circle. Jaebum takes advantage of the shuffle to slide back into his seat next to Jinyoung, in which Jackson whines and instead latches onto Mark, startling the other out of his nap. 

“The outcast returns,” Jinyoung smiles at him, chin his palm.

“I don’t get why I was moved away, I’m not the one that ran with scissors.” He slumps down, leaning his elbows on the table. 

“Yes, but you were the one who yelled, and I quote,  _ come back here you shithead of a dick _ .”

Jaebum shrugs, “It was all in good nature.”

“Jackson could have lost an eye.”

He sighs, sharply poking his forehead with a finger, “Why do you always defend him? What about me, you’re long term, childhood friend who’s always been here?” 

Jinyoung smirks, “I’m so sorry, are you okay? Did you burst a vein or sprain an ankle? Want me to kiss your boo boo better?”

Jaebum scowls, a faint blush rising in his ears and Jinyoung laughs, a hand to his lips at his caught-off guard expression on his face.

“Trust me, Jinyoung, it’s not his boo boo he wants you to k--”

Mark, god bless, kicks Jackson under the table and he squeals, almost falling off of his chair as he tries to clutch his shin on reflex. Jaebum coughs and turns away, a pink spreading down to his cheeks at the implication. Cute, Jinyoung thinks, unfazed to the comment. 

“Class,” they look up to see their teacher standing at the front of the class, two snowflakes almost strikingly identical in her hand, one in which Jinyoung realises with apprehension is his, “As much as I appreciate teamwork, the whole point of this exercise was to pursue  _ originality  _ not copy off of your friend--”

Jaebum leans over to him, his breath warm against the shell of his ear, “Wow, I knew that asshole next to me was copying me. Great, now I’m in even more trouble.” he sighs.

Confused, Jinyoung whips around and starts when their noses almost brush, faces inches apart. Jaebum pulls back, wide eyed, and Jinyoung quickly regains his composure, “Copying you? The other one is  _ mine _ .”

“ _ Yours _ ?” The crease between his brow is adorable, “How? You weren’t even near me, how could you have possibly--”

“Im Jaebum, Park Jinyoung, what are you two whispering about? Don’t tell me these are yours.” The teacher flaps the pieces around angrily like a war flag and the two of them look up, Jinyoung guilty at being caught and Jaebum frowning, still confused. 

Jinyoung worries his bottom lip, unnerved with all the curious eyes burning into the two of them and he feels a sticky heat prick at his neck “We didn’t copy each other, we couldn’t have.” he reasons.

“Are you asking me to believe that you two managed to create an exact replica of each other’s designs without pre-planning?”

“He’s not lying.” Jaebum’s tone is steely and, slightly panicked, Jinyoung kicks his leg to tell him to watch his tongue. 

“Aaw, so cute!” Jackson pipes in, hands pressed against his cheeks and like that, the tension diffuses out of the room. Unfortunately, in replacement, Jinyoung feels the oncoming waves of mortification breaking at the dam as Jackson begins to coo at the two of them. 

“Jaebummie hyung and Jinyoungie accidentally made couple snowflakes,” he yells, voice rising into a pitch detectable by dogs, face contorted with joy as he watches their faces morph into an angry, red blotched scowls. Jaebum covers his face with a hand and refuses to meet their eyes. 

With a feverish panic blaring sirens in his head, Jinyoung signals at Jackson with a furious glare for him to shut his stupid fat mouth up but their friend actively ignores him and instead begins shaking Mark back and forth like a rag doll, while the whole class watches in fascination like tourists in front of a monkey enclosure.

“This is like that time when they got those stupid Simpsons rings for each other, oh my god,” Mark grunts in affirmation, head lolling back and forth as the younger boy began to cackle, “or like that time when we were kids and--”

“Jackson!” Jinyoung hisses, slamming his hand to the table and causing the scissors to jump, “We  _ specifically  _ agreed not to talk about it again.”

“Doesn’t make it any less real, everyone already knows Jaebum hyung--”

“Jackson.” The glower Jaebum has could level buildings honestly. Already traipsing a hair-thin wire, Jackson has enough self preservation to close his mouth, yet not enough to hide his coy simper and curve his hands together into a heart, winking. 

The room could implode right now and Jinyoung doesn’t think he would even notice.

 

 

 

“Couple snowflakes huh?” Jaebum smiles a little ruefully, leaning against the handle of his broomstick as he watches Jinyoung wipe down the tables with a damp cloth, attempting to scratch out the mountains of glue residue. He looks a little too handsome for a bratty teenager with temper issues and untucked shirts, but the curve of his lips and the sharp shadows on his face makes it a little hard for him to tear his eyes away. 

Their and Jackson’s little showcase didn’t go unpunished but the latter was the only one with a feasible excuse to ditch, hollering something about Very Important Fencing Practice as he slid down the corridor and spun around a corner, sneakers leaving tread marks on the linoleum 

Jinyoung flicks his cloth at Jaebum. The other flinches and scrunches his face, cool demeanour going up in smoke at his dorky face, and he laughs. 

“They’re not our first matching items,” he looks pointedly at the flash of silver wrapped around one of Jaebum’s fingers, and the other has the pride to look a little sheepish at it, beginning to twist at it like a nervous habit.

“It’s a shame you never wear yours,” Jaebum leans the broom against the wall and walks over to him. He perches himself on a dry tabletop and Jinyoung looks up at him, confused. He slips a hand beneath his collar and lifts a chain out with his thumb, an identical ring dangling from the thin silver. He arches a brow. 

“I meant in the open,” Jaebum corrects, reaching over and taking the item into his own hand and running his fingers over the cool metal, rubbing the ridges under the pad of his thumb. Jinyoung lets his gaze soften yet he doesn’t meet his eyes, instead watching with intense fixation on the shifts in light playing on Jaebum’s skin.

“I think everyone’s already well aware we’re best friends. Besides, I’m not wearing those stupid Simpsons rings in public either, thank you.” 

The heating system’s humming grows louder and a rush of warm air washes in. White-grey cotton fogs across the window and the lighting flickers unstably for a moment; their shadows blink. Those rings were a stupid gift and Jinyoung can trace his memories back to it like the pause-play of a film, the dumbest details crystallising into clarity and everything else fading out of focus. 

A riveting summer sky wavering in uncertain blues and the cries of cicada malleable as old wounds in the thrumming air. The hand of a younger Jaebum’s opening to reveal something he saw in a novelty store, his hands a little clammy as he passed one over, too afraid to personally put it on. 

They’re older now, and too much time has passed. 

“I’ve liked you for the longest time,” Jaebum whispers. His words seem forced out, tasting uncertain and doubtful. Scared, even.

“I know.” Jinyoung says, slipping his ring from Jaebum’s grasp and dropping it back into his shirt. The metal is warm from his touch and it sears into his skin. Colourful and sloppy art projects decorate his vision. 

Jaebum presses his lips together in a brief smile, “I know you do.”

Silently, Jinyoung pushes himself up to sit next to his friend, their sides pressed against each other. They drink in the moment, the blurring of two sides as Jinyoung feels his heart saturate with unspoken words yet his bones seem to air out into a featherweight mass. Safe and tethered, the familiar anchor of Jaebum’s touch makes him feel like he’ll be carried away by the wind any moment.

He’s known Jaebum for so long, yet everything felt so temporary. Chest constricting, he leans his head to the other’s shoulder, thinks he can hear the dull thud of a distant heartbeat. Fingers slip into his and he laughs, shoulders shaking, and like always, Jaebum follows. 

Jinyoung brings their intertwined hands into his lap and runs his thumb over Jaebum’s own ring in feather light touches.

“Do you really think that no two snowflakes are the same?” he mumbles.

“I don’t know, but, it’s not exactly impossible, right?” Jaebum shifts a little so Jinyoung could nestle his head more comfortably, “I mean, maybe tomorrow or in the next decade there’ll be one that’s identical to one that was formed, geez I don’t know, maybe a hundred years ago. We don’t know.”

Jinyoung can feel the vibrations of Jaebum’s voice, the way his chest moves and the bob of his neck as he talks in that sleepy yet content tone he has when he’s finally relaxed.

“It’d be a miracle if they were made in the same day, same moment. If they were together.”

“Hm, maybe not a miracle.”

“Then a coincidence.”

He can feel Jaebum break into a blinding grin, an inside joke only he’d understand, “No, more like luck.” he says.

Jinyoung hums, lifting his head up to look him in the eyes. “You’re so romantic, hyung.” Jaebum’s eyes are dark, his eyelids a little hooded, and it takes him a moment to accept that the pillowy endearment in his gaze is for him only. 

“And you’re a stone cold pessimist,” Jaebum squeezes their hands.

“We cancel each other out then.”

“More like we  _ balance  _ each other.”

“Of course, hyung.” Jinyoung says and he leans forward. Jaebum meets him halfway. 

It’s soft and quiet, a nervous press of their lips that lasts barely a heartbeat yet he can feel something flower within him as sweet as honeysuckle and snowdrops. When they part the air between them turns cool and Jinyoung keeps his eyes closed a second longer before smiling like he had just swallowed sunlight. 

“Your lips are chapped,” he says, licking his own. He feels like a shy school boy on the playground, scratched legs dangling from a creaking swing as he tries not get caught staring at a school yard infatuation. 

“Gee, sorry, I’ll try it again next time after I get some nicer lips then.”

“That’s a promise I’ll be keeping,” Jinyoung slides off the table and stands before him but he doesn’t break apart their hands, “Walk me home?”

Whatever restraint Jaebum had kept in trying to school his expression falters and his grin reflects onto Jinyoung’s own smile. 

“Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is like two months late bobby but omg i did it,, i wrote it,, lies down for five years. this was meant to be 1k but ofc that never happens hahahh ah h.
> 
> hmu @peachynyoung \o/ yell at me pls


End file.
